


Stay

by panickinskywalker



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Copious Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 06:42:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7157927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panickinskywalker/pseuds/panickinskywalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anakin Skywalker doesn’t know what time it is when he finds himself standing in front of that viewport. His stance is sturdy, but he is not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay

Grief comes to him in tides, and each one drowns Anakin Skywalker near death.

  
In the landscape of his mind he stands there, his feet lodged in the sand of his childhood, and when the grief comes back it traps him there. He thinks one day the grief will simply flow away, and sometimes it feels like it has. Sometimes it stays away so long the sand around his feet bakes and cracks and green stems sprout and bloom flowers.

  
Being inside his own mind is bearable when it smells of apple blossoms and hibiscus and jasmine, when his feet are hidden by creeping flora. Then the tide rushes back in from the horizon and drowns him again, and the landscape of his mind is salted and barren.

  
It’s somehow worse on Coruscant.

  
On Tatooine at least he knew where his mother’s bones lay. He could find his way back to the encampment he had turned to a mass grave, if he wanted to. He could take his lightsaber to the shaking foundations of the community the sand people had no doubt begun to rebuild there. He could slaughter them all over again. He knows it won’t close the holes that have been torn open through his life, but sometimes he would like to try.

  
On Coruscant the most he can do when the tide comes in is find somewhere quiet and wait for it to drown him. It overwhelms him so he forgets to be angry that Obi-Wan ignores his grief shrieking out into the force. He forgets to be sad that Padmé is too far away to hear him. Every part of his life is this one moment, and this one moment is pain.

 

Anakin Skywalker doesn’t know what time it is when he finds himself standing in front of that viewport. His stance is sturdy, but he is not. The hands that are clasped behind his back are shaking, and the sharp gaze peering out over the city doesn’t see. Coruscant blurs into lights and movement before his eyes.

  
The door to his room opens and closes so quietly he almost misses it, but he doesn’t miss the presence that fills up the air and makes his heart ache in ways he didn’t know it could. He doesn’t want to turn around. He knows when he does, he’ll see Obi-Wan standing there, dignified as ever, and Obi-Wan will see him for the broken man he is.

  
Anakin clasps his hands so tightly behind his back that his knuckles turn white, but they stop shaking. Obi-Wan is quiet. So quiet that if Anakin couldn’t feel him standing there, he wouldn’t be sure he’d ever entered, and still he refuses to turn around.

  
“Anakin,” The soft sound of his name in Obi-Wan’s voice shakes something inside Anakin. Obi-Wan can see his face reflected in the viewport, and he watches as Anakin’s face falls, and as tears burn trails down his cheeks before he can dip his head out of sight. “You’re thinking about your mother again.”

  
“She told me not to look back.” His voice quivers, but he goes on. “She told me to be brave. I have failed her at every possible opportunity.”

  
“Oh, Anakin.” Is all that comes from him at first, and Obi-Wan’s voice is so full of sorrow it almost stops Anakin in his tracks, but somehow it only makes things worse. “That isn’t—“

  
“I could have saved her,” Anakin’s voice sounds like it wants to stay trapped in his lungs. He pushes it out through sobs and teeth, and he stares at the ground. Somehow the years that separate himself and the death of Shmi Skywalker hadn’t weakened his conviction.

  
“You couldn’t,” Obi-Wan says, and his voice is patient as ever. “You can’t save everyone.” He knows, more than anything, that Anakin doesn’t need his righteous wisdom. Anakin needs his love, and Obi-Wan can’t give it to him because he still likes to think the pair of them haven’t fallen. That they still uphold the archaic ideals of the Jedi order. “As Jedi, we must—“

  
“I never wanted to be a Jedi,” Anakin spat the words from his mouth as if they were poisoned, “I was never given a choice.” He wasn’t sure that those words were true always, but they were true now.

  
Right now, Anakin Skywalker would have died a slave to save his mother.

  
There was a heavy silence between the two of them. A thousand stubborn words could have flown through their bond, they could understand each other if they weren’t both actively blocking the other out.

  
Then Obi-Wan relented, and the silence was broken by a small and unsteady breath from him. His footsteps were calm, and the rhythm of them somehow began to soothe Anakin before Obi-Wan was even by his side.

  
“I could have—“ Anakin turned towards him, and Obi-Wan silenced him with a hand on his cheek.

  
“All things die, my young friend.” Anakin’s head spun with more rage at Obi-Wan’s words. He reached up and grasped at the sleeve that fell on his shoulder so tightly he could almost hear the durasteel joints creaking in protest. “Your mother has returned to the universe. Her life has returned to the Force, and so she is with you. Always.”

 

Anakin still hadn’t looked up to meet his eye, but the white-knuckle grasp he had on Obi-Wan’s robe loosened. The ghost of an ache spread through the prosthetic as it moved to rest atop Obi-Wan’s wrist, and Anakin turned his face towards the warm palm on his cheek.

  
Such a simple gesture had brought back memories of the night he found her. When he was a padawan, less restrained somehow than he is now, and he turned and pressed his lips to the heel of Obi-Wan’s hand.

  
That’s when he really falls apart. His body shakes and fresh tears fall, and Anakin’s other arm comes up and presses Obi-Wan’s hand against his face. Obi-Wan can’t stop himself from pulling him in now, it’s like an instinct. Like something he should have done hours or years ago.

  
“Why’d she have to go?” Anakin’s voice comes from where he’d hidden his face against Obi-Wan’s shoulder. It’s such a simple question, but hearing it makes Obi-Wan’s heart heavy.

  
“Because life is cruel.” He states it so simply, his voice as light and unaffected as ever, and his arms shift so he can hold Anakin a little more snug. “It takes away the things we love, when we aren’t supposed to love them in the first place.”

  
“I miss her.”

  
“I know.”

  
The silence that falls between them now was not spiteful. It isn’t an effort the keep the other at bay. It’s filled with understanding and comfort. With Apologies. With affection.

  
“I love you, Obi-Wan.” The words leave Anakin’s mouth before he thinks to stop them. He wasn’t sure how long had passed before he broke the silence, but now he holds his breath and he feels the seconds pass keenly.

  
Obi-Wan’s hand rubs against his back, soothes him, but he doesn’t say anything for far too long. Then his hand is on the back of Anakin’s head, pulling him closer so Obi-Wan can press his face to his hair. “I love you.” He whispers it like it’s a secret. So quietly he’s not sure Anakin hears it, but he feels the body in his arms loosen and the arms around him steadily stop shaking.

  
Anakin’s mind empties itself for what feels like the first time in years, his breathing is steady and small, and his limbs lose their strength. The only thing keeping him upright is Obi-Wan’s arms pressing Anakin to his chest. The only reason Obi-Wan knows he’s awake at all is because Anakin shifts and changes his grip on the back of Obi-Wan’s robe.

 

Then, too soon for either of their liking, Obi-Wan’s grip loosens and Anakin pulls back. For the first time he sees there’s a few stray tears on Obi-Wan’s cheek, and very quickly he reaches out to wipe them away.

  
“I’m sorry.”

  
“Don’t be sorry.” Obi-Wan answers immediately. There’s an almost foreign tenderness about him, and Anakin finds himself wishing he could spend the rest of his life pressed up against his chest. Or at least a few more minutes.

  
Anakin feels as though there’s a fresh hole torn through his chest. He feels like an open wound, and he’s not sure he’s ready to show himself bare to the world. He wants Obi-Wan’s arms to pull him back together, and if Anakin asked, Obi-Wan would do it.

  
Except he’s taking a step back, his expression is serene and he’s taking a deep breath as if he’s about to end a conversation. Before he can speak, though, Anakin’s voice cuts him off.

 

“Stay.” He says, and he sounds so incredibly wounded that it almost knocks Obi-Wan back a step. “Please.”

  
Obi-Wan hesitates a moment, he glances back towards the door. Then he takes a step back towards Anakin, and the backs of Obi-Wan’s fingers brush briefly against his cheek. “I’ll stay.”


End file.
